I am Helen Magnus
by sanctuary fan
Summary: Helen Magnus takes a look in a mirror


I am Helen Magnus

_Looking__ in a mirror could sometimes be disappointing. Helen Magnus knew that very well, not because of her appearance, but because a mirror would force her to be true to herself. The figure in the mirror knew all about her, her feelings, hopes, and regrets. Therefore, one night, she decided to take a closer look._

First, I am a woman, with a woman's feelings and expectations.

Second, I am a mother with a broken heart.

Third, I am in command of one of the best-kept secrets of this world. Therefore, everything I do has to be perfect.

Fourth, I am powerfull, so my feelings should not be shown, because they can be interpreted as weakness.

I have chosen the last two characteristics to base my life on. Was it all worth it?

Let's see...

At the beginig, being a woman in a men's world meant grace and determination. To succeed in a men's world ment great knowledge, strength, perseverance and experience. I had all but experience. My father helped me with that. He believed in me, showed me the way and made sure I understood there was no turning back. I succeded, surpassed expectations and went on like there were no turning back. Now, I have men at my feet. I became one of The Five and I am the last of the five to carry on something that many people have belived in. I love my work, I am the best at it, I am leaving something behind. I am less than perfect inside, but outside I am all that most people desire to achieve.

But I have my flaws and I try very hard not to show them. Few people around me know them and they are the people who I cherish the most, which makes it all right. The most reoccuring one is my limited patience regarding other's aparently bad ideas. I have learnt along the way to control it, but still, sometimes I just snap. I distinctly remember the time when Hubert Brooth wanted to demostrate at a social party the way his invention worked, before it was perfected. That day he ruined my north-west Persian carpets with his giant vacuum cleaner. I acted sooooo unlady like then... I guess that was the moment when I realised that impatience, as a response to an idea was not becoming me. Brooth used to remaind me of that after having successfully cleaned the blue pile carpets laid in Westminster Abbey for the coronation of King Edward VII in 1902 with his invention.

I have since tried to keep my temper at bay with people. However, I still snap sometimes mostly at Will and Henry. I hope they know I love them and they can forgive me. Maybe I should tell them from time to time that I appreciate them being in my life, but still, I think they know.

The Sanctuary… I would give my life for any one of its inhabitants. Sometimes I grow tired of living this life, but I never show it because abnormals must trust me to have a better life. Nevertheless, the discovery and study of a new abnormal always thrill me so, no matter how tired I might be I will go on.

I think I am vain. Will would probably agree, but he still cannot say it to my face. I don't know why: he is still afraid of me sometimes or he is too much of a gentleman. I have to remember to ask him that one day. These days it's hard not to be vain with my contacts, my free access to information and the resources laid out in front of me. To be honest I probably like being vain sometimes, it suits my English upbringing. I'm still trying to accept this part of me.

I think too much, but that's the only way to ensure the safety of all abnormals and humans working and living with me. Most of the times it's useful, but seldom, thinking of every possible aspect hinders me from taking the best decision. I should rely on my instincts more often. Another thing I need to talk to Will about… someday.

It's very hard for me to talk about my feelings and worries with my colleagues. I am afraid of showing vulnerability in front of the people I work with because I'm the boss and I don't have the luxury of allowing myself to be less than strong. However, Will has become more than a colleague a long time ago; I can even call him my best friend. But Will thinks I'm almost perfect and my self doubts don't fit in with that image. Still, he had more opportunities than anyone else did to read into my soul and he did not run away so he might be the right person to talk to. I talked to him one time about Ashley, the only time when I knew I could talk about my daughter without crying. I have never talked about her since. I do not want to cry for her, I want to feel that sharp pain because I am afraid I'll eventually forget details about her: the tone of her voice, the flickering in her eyes, her different kinds of smiles and laughter, the warmth of her body when she hugged me. Ashley, my beautiful Ashley… Sometimes I think of her and I instinctively look up at the sky for her to hear me. It's nonsense because I believe too much in science to believe in God, heaven and hell. Hell and heaven are on earth, all around us, but looking up feels like the only way I can connect with her. Maybe I'm not all of a scientologist after all. Times like this make me want God to exist and take care of my daughter.

So, abnormals are safe, humans are safe. My daughter is not. It was not a fair trade, but it was the only choice.

I also have friends who would die for me, and for whom I would gladly die. So, it was all worth it and will continue to be.

"What would you do different?" she asked the woman in the mirror. The answer came easily "absolutely nothing!"


End file.
